


to keep and be kept

by lupinely



Series: even in another time [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupinely/pseuds/lupinely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My parents want to meet you,” Korra says, and it takes Asami several moments to comprehend what she has said.</p><p>“What?” Asami stops trying to get free of Korra’s playful grip, and Korra lets her go, sitting back on her heels. Asami sits up, her temples suddenly feeling very tight, her skull heavy.</p><p>“My parents,” Korra says. “You, me, them, dinner.”</p><p>“I’ve met your parents,” Asami says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to keep and be kept

 

 

 

 

 

There should be some sort of guidebook for this, Asami thinks. How To Date The Avatar Without Freaking Out Constantly, or, All That Weird Shit Your Avatar Girlfriend Does: Explained!

Korra: cross-legged, meditating. Asami doesn’t want to disturb her, but there’s not a lot of room in her small apartment, so distraction is inevitable. Asami leaves Korra in the other room where the light of the rising sun slowing turns the walls gold and sits at her tiny kitchen table, watching Korra over the half-wall separating them now. Asami considers making some tea and then decides against it, settling for a cool glass of water, which she presses against her temples.

When she looks up again, Korra has opened her eyes. But she is far away: her eyes glassy, seeing something that Asami cannot. Then Korra blinks, and, disoriented, turns her gaze to Asami.

“What is it?” Asami asks and sets her glass down.

Korra is motionless, then: “Nothing.” Her gaze suddenly clears, and a bright smile breaks out across her face. “Good morning.”

“Yes,” Asami says; “good morning.” It’s nearly noon. Korra is not an early riser by any stretch of the imagination, and she has gotten Asami into the same habit. Today Asami actually slept in later than Korra did, which Asami finds vaguely unsettling and she can’t set her finger on why. She feels achy, tired, a tidal pull in the back of her throat. She presses the water glass to her temple again.

Korra sits across the table from Asami. There are blueprints and various bits of paperwork scattered everywhere, making it hard to navigate the tiny kitchen. This apartment is the only place where Asami allows herself to be messy like this; in a way, it is a sort of relief.

Korra looks concerned. “Are you all right?”

Asami doesn’t really know how to answer that. “Fine.”

“Can I help?” Korra asks.

Asami thinks of waterbending, of Korra’s gentle fingertips at either side of her face. Probably, she could. “It’s okay. I’m just not used to sleeping in.”

Korra makes a face. “You call this sleeping in? You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Mm,” Asami hums. That she does.

 

-

 

Bolin shows up later unexpectedly, as is his custom. He does it so often that it really, by this point, should be expected.

“Hey kids,” he says, a broad smile on his face as he walks right through the door. Asami had given him a spare key a few months ago, because why not? “Ready to meet the day?”

Korra, her knees on either side of Asami’s hips, scowls at him. “Didn’t Mako ever teach you how to knock?”

Asami, flushed, leaning back on the couch and hidden from Bolin’s view by Korra’s torso. One of Korra’s hands is still playing with the hair at the nape of Asami’s neck, lazily. They’d merely been kissing, and Bolin, of course, knows they’ve been dating—everyone does—yet Asami can’t pin down why she still feels so strange.

“Yep,” Bolin says brightly. “Never caught on, though. Is Asami hidden under there or what?”

Asami, giving up, gives a weak wave. “Hi, Bolin.” He grins at her as Korra falls back with a huff, her hand falling from Asami’s hair.

“You have absolutely no manners,” Korra says.

“You would know,” Bolin says. “Anyway, come on, day’s a-wastin. We’re going on an adventure.”

“I was just having an adventure,” Korra says, and Asami feels warm again. “Till you walked in.”

“Ah, new love,” Bolin says, with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, and then he pulls Korra to her feet.

Not new, Asami thinks, but she lets herself be dragged upright as well.

The adventure turns out to be a trip to the probending stadium, since repaired and renovated following the equalist attack years ago. Asami hasn’t set foot in here since before her father was arrested. (That’s how she can’t help but measure time, these days: before and after her father was arrested; before and after Korra left for the South Pole; before and after her father died.)

“Really, Bolin?” Korra says. “This is a sucky adventure.”

“Call me nostalgic,” Bolin says. “We were gonna spar today but I thought, why not go back to where it all began?”

He and Korra spar in the old training room, which is dusty with disuse. There’s a newer training room down the hallway now, but even that is deserted today as there are no current tournaments. Asami watches them for a while. Bolin and Korra don’t use their bending, just their physical strength and ability. Bolin is strong but so is Korra, and she has been training hard ever since she came back from the South Pole to regain all her lost muscle mass. She is stronger now than she has ever been.

After a while, Asami slips out of the room, quietly, to get some water for the two of them, since of course neither of them thought to bring any for themselves. She fills the bottles from the fountain downstairs, and when she returns Korra is sitting on a low bench, wiping her forehead with a towel, and Bolin is practicing his earthbending forms.

“Hey,” Korra says when Asami approaches. She accepts the water gratefully. “Thanks.”

“What would you do without me?” Asami says, but she doesn’t mean it.

“I know,” Korra says. “It boggles the mind.” Her smile is bright and genuine and yet another one of those things that Asami cannot understand. Korra pulls Asami down by the front of her shirt and kisses her. “Wanna spar?”

“Sure,” Asami says, and shrugs out of her shirt so that she’s wearing only her loose pants and her binder. Bolin and Korra have seen her like this before, and somehow, over the years, it is one of the only things that has stopped feeling strange. Bolin and Korra understand. They always have.

They circle each other slowly, both barefoot. Korra still has her hands wrapped from when she was sparring with Bolin. Asami’s knuckles are bare, but she doesn’t intend to use them, so it’s all right. She is not as strong as Korra, but Korra has been helping her train lately, and Asami has noticed her own arms getting stronger, getting tougher. It’s a good feeling, even as it frightens her; some days she worries about waking up and not recognizing herself, her own skin. She wonders what Korra would say to that, whether the bright burst of her laugh would hurt or help. Whether she would laugh at all. Korra knows more than Asami does about change and how it hurts.

Korra darts in first and sweeps Asami’s feet out from under her, but Asami rolls, regains her balance, strikes back. Their hands and wrists connect; Korra pushes Asami away and tries to overbalance her again, using Asami’s height against her. It works, and Asami tumbles, and Korra goes down with her, ready to try and pin her.

But Asami is ready for it, and when Korra tries to grab her wrists, Asami knees Korra in the stomach, sends her head over heels. She doesn’t have to worry about hurting Korra—the grin on Korra’s face is evident and slanted.

They continue sparring while Bolin goes through his forms and watches them, though eventually the sparring devolves into wrestling, and Asami is sweaty and tired and aching, still, when she finally gets Korra on her back and pins both her wrists above her head.

Korra, panting. Her eyes bright and her short hair mussed. Her eyes flick from Asami’s eyes to her mouth, and Asami leans down and kisses her.

“You don’t have to let me win,” Asami says when she pulls away and loosens her grip on Korra’s hands. Korra takes the opportunity to flip the two of them over and pin Asami down, her knees against Asami’s hips, her hair getting into her eyes as she breathes hard.

“Didn’t,” Korra insists. “I never do.”

Asami wriggles beneath her, only barely making any attempt to get free. Distantly, she hears Bolin whistle at them, but she’s not paying attention to him, and it doesn’t bother her. He’s not like the men who stare at Korra and Asami on the street when they hold hands, hungry and horrible and hateful. Bolin gets it, and Asami loves him for it, but right now she has other things to think about, like the weight of Korra’s body above her, the sweat at Korra’s temples, the bright blue of her eyes.

Korra is staring down at Asami, something like a half smile on her face. She looks distant and far away again, as she had this morning. Asami raises her hips, trying to push Korra off of her, and Korra grins, her eyes clearing, and bears down on her.

“My parents want to meet you,” Korra says, and it takes Asami several moments to comprehend what she has said.

“What?” Asami stops trying to get free of Korra’s playful grip, and Korra lets her go, sitting back on her heels. Asami sits up, her temples suddenly feeling very tight, her skull heavy.

“My parents,” Korra says. “You, me, them, dinner.”

“I’ve met your parents,” Asami says.

“Yeah, I know,” Korra says. She looks a little bashful now. “I told them that, but they want to do the whole, I don’t know. In-law thing.”

“We’re not married,” Asami says, numbly.

“No,” Korra says; “but we have been dating for a while, and I spend so much time at your place now that they barely ever see me, and—I dunno, I can tell them we don’t want to. It’s fine.”

“No, don’t,” Asami says. She gets to her feet, and so does Korra. “That’s...we can do that.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them,” Korra says, smiling bright again, and she kisses Asami on the cheek before bounding over to where Bolin is lying on his back on one of the benches, throwing a practice ball into the air and catching it repeatedly.

Asami should talk to her. Asami knows this. But she doesn’t know what to say.

 

-

 

Asami doesn’t know much about Korra’s parents, really. She has interacted with them briefly, but never truly spoken to them. Her most vivid memory of Tonraq is from four years ago when he held Korra in his arms after Zaheer had poisoned her. She knows he is the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, and that he and Senna married young. She doesn’t know why she knows that.

So: they have met. Asami has spoken with them, though it has been a long time, probably years. Tonraq and Senna were at Varrick’s wedding half a year ago, but that is the last time Asami has seen them. Maybe it is strange, that she never goes over to Korra’s place, to her parents’—maybe it is strange that Korra always comes to Asami’s small, cramped apartment. What if Korra has hated it all this time, and resented Asami for not being as outgoing as she used to be?

No—Korra would have said something, were that the case. Korra never hides what she is feeling, and Asami loves her for that. Just because Asami doesn’t always understand Korra doesn’t mean that Korra isn’t open with her.

Looking back, Asami knows that she has withdrawn a great deal since her father’s death. She doesn’t know why, particularly. Her father was in prison for years before he died, and she hadn’t hidden away from that. It’s not that she’s hiding now—not exactly. But it has just been easier, lately, to stay at home.

She has been alone for a long time. Obviously, since her father passed _(was killed_ , she thinks, bitterly), but even before then he wasn’t around, and she spent most of her time running her family’s company alone, because she was the only member of her family left. She would see Bolin or Mako from time to time, but Korra was in the South Pole, and mostly Asami just kept to herself. She hadn’t really thought about it much at the time; she isn’t sure, really, why she is even thinking about it now. But solitude is one of those things you just grow accustomed to, and sometimes the thought of not being alone is more frightening than the loneliness.

Korra has never seemed bothered by it. She is usually busy with her work with the city and corresponding with other nations, but more often than not she can be found in Asami’s apartment, content to share some peace and quiet with her. Being with Korra never feels like something Asami has to work at, never feels wrong.

I’m holding her back, Asami thinks, and she doesn’t know when she started to feel this way, can’t explain it.

 

-

 

Senna and Tonraq live on Avatar Island when they are in Republic City, where they usually are for about three months of the year. Asami remembers Korra telling her about this arrangement, a few months ago; her parents hadn’t known whether Korra would want them in Republic City, but Korra had been happy to have them there. It has been a long time since Korra has relied on her parents, but she loves them; and during her three years in the South Pole, she’d grown much closer to them after being separated from them during so much of her childhood. They were worried about Korra not needing them, and about the world needing Korra in ways they couldn’t understand; but Korra never seemed to think about it that way.

Korra had told Asami about growing up in the White Lotus compound, how her parents had supported her when they could, especially when she’d been figuring out who she was, realizing that she was a girl in every way that mattered. Asami can’t help but be envious of that, yet grateful to Korra’s parents for being as good as they were. Asami had never spoken to her mother or father about anything like this; sometimes Asami thinks her parents died without really knowing anything about her.

Korra understands. And sometimes that’s enough.

Korra shows up at Asami’s apartment next week so they can leave for Avatar Island. They take Asami’s motorbike down to the docks, Korra with her arms around Asami’s middle, her torso pressed against Asami’s back. It’s good and clear and crystallizing; the road, the motorbike’s engine that Asami knows inside and out, can take apart and put back together in her sleep; the clear air, the late afternoon sky. Some of Asami’s nervousness dissipates.

On the ferry ride to the island, Korra presses Asami up against the railing and looks up at her eyes, very seriously. “Hey,” she says. “You’re quiet today.”

“I guess so,” Asami says.

Korra kisses her collarbone. “I love you.”

It feels as good, as wonderful as it does every time that Korra says it, which is often, because Korra isn’t one to ever hide what she feels. “I love you,” Asami says in return, and Korra stands on tiptoe and kisses her on her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t be nervous,” Korra says. “My parents are dorks. You’ll be fine. You’ll fit right in.”

“Wow, thanks,” Asami says drily, and yet more of her anxiety fades nevertheless.

When they dock on the island, Korra slides her hand into Asami’s, and together they walk across the familiar grounds to the main buildings. Asami remembers staying here after learning that her father had joined the equalists. She and Korra had rarely spoken, then. Funny how things change.

Senna and Tonraq live in a small apartment complex on the southern side of the island, and Korra leads Asami to their door and lets herself in, calling out, “Mom? Dad? It’s me,” as she goes inside.

Asami thinks about letting go of Korra’s hand, then doesn’t. That’s something she might have done a few months ago, but not anymore.

They go into the kitchen, where they find Tonraq and Senna bustling around setting the table. Tonraq has a handful of place mats, and Senna is organizing the flowers in the center of the table, looking flustered.

“Korra!” she says. “Honey, you’re early.”

“I told you not to go overboard,” Korra says.

“This isn’t overboard,” Tonraq replies. “This is perfectly on the level. Perfectly on board.”

Korra goes over to hug them both, leaving Asami in the doorway. Asami feels a little out of place, but not for long, because Senna comes over at once and gives Asami a big hug. She’s shorter than Korra is, and so Asami is about a full foot taller than her. She hugs Senna back, startled.

“It’s so good to have you here,” Senna says warmly. Her hair is pulled back from her face, streaked lightly with gray. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Tonraq shakes Asami’s hand when Senna steps away. “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe now Korra will talk about something other than you at dinner.”

“Wow,” Korra says. “We’re going there already.” She’s blushing. Senna tugs the end of her hair affectionately.

Asami feels overwhelmed, but warm. She is glad she came, even if she doesn’t know what to say. She sits where Senna indicates, and Korra puts her feet on Asami’s knees underneath the table while Senna and Tonraq get dinner, refusing to let either of their guests help.

“This is nice,” Asami says. “Thank you.”

Senna beams.

They talk over dinner about many things: the Southern Water Tribe, the newly formed United Earth Republic, the politics about Republic City. Near the end of the conversation, Senna, looking cheery, says to Asami, “You know, I feel like I know you very well, Asami, after all Korra’s said about you—” Korra groans “—but I’d love for you to tell me about yourself, anyway.”

Asami looks down at her plate, caught off guard. She doesn’t know what to say. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Not true,” Korra says in a pointed voice, but she is not looking at Asami.

“I mean;” Asami scrambles for something to say; “if Korra’s told you about me, I doubt there’s much else I can say.” Her face feels hot. She used to be so good at this.

“Leave the girl alone, Senna,” Tonraq says, and there’s a twitch of discomfort, that unease again _(Daddy’s helpless little girl,_ Asami thinks, bitter), and Senna holds up her hands. “You’re embarrassing her.”

“No, it’s all right,” Asami says. “Really.” Korra slides her hand over Asami’s on the table, squeezes her fingers.

“We’re glad to finally sit down with you,” Tonraq says. “We’ve been asking about you for ages, Korra just kept putting it off. We thought maybe she was embarrassed of us.”

“You know it,” Korra says, but she won’t meet Asami’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Asami says. “I haven’t been—I’ve been....” She trails off. Her face is hot, her eyes stinging, and it takes her a moment before she realizes that she is crying at the dinner table in front of Korra’s parents, and then once she realizes, she can’t stop.

“Asami,” Korra says, bewildered, but Senna is already on her feet and fetching some tissues. She crouches by Asami’s chair and hands them to her.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Senna says, and that just makes the tears flow harder. Asami presses the tissues to her eyes, trying to stem the tears and not succeeding very well.

“Thank you,” she says at last, shakily. Senna is looking at her with concern, but Korra’s expression is unreadable.

“Why don’t you and I clear the table, Senna,” Tonraq says gently, and Senna nods, getting to her feet and helping her husband take the dishes into the kitchen.

Asami can’t make herself look at Korra. She carefully wipes her eyes when she manages to stop crying and looks, very pointedly, at the table instead.

Korra doesn’t say anything. Instead, she stands, moves to Asami’s side, and pulls her into a hug. Asami puts her arms around her and buries her face in Korra’s shoulder, her breath hitching, but her eyes dry.

Finally, she says: “I’m sorry.”

Korra run her hand over Asami’s hair. “Are you okay?”

“Tired,” Asami says; her usual response. Then she decides that she can’t keep doing this; can’t keep avoiding the question when Korra is trying to ask what’s wrong. “Since my dad died,” she says, “I haven’t been...it’s hard.”

Korra kisses the top of her head and says nothing.

“I think I’ve been trying to hide it for—for too long,” Asami says. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Korra says. “Don’t be sorry. It’s all right.”

Asami, finally, leans back. Korra looks concerned but determined, and Asami is grateful and embarrassed. She asks, because she may as well: “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that your parents wanted to—whatever, meet me, I guess.”

Korra shrugs. She looks embarrassed now, self-conscious. “I didn’t know whether or not you’d want to,” she says. “I didn’t want to put that pressure on you.”

Asami runs her thumb over Korra’s knuckles. “As long as it’s not because you’re embarrassed of me.”

“Asami....”

“There’s just—so much about you that I’m never going to understand,” Asami blurts out, and suddenly, like the tears, she can’t stop herself from saying it all. “Your bending, the spirit world, your past lives, your destiny...I don’t have a place in any of that. I feel like there’s so much about you I don’t understand, and it’s not because of you, it’s because of—of—me,” she finishes, finally. _Because of who I am._

Korra is looking down at their joined hands. She doesn’t say anything right away, for which Asami is glad. Instead, she considers, her mouth tense.

Finally: “There are things about you that I don’t understand, either,” Korra says at last. “And I think that’s okay. I want to understand everything about you that I can. It doesn’t have to happen all at once. We have all the time in the world.”

Korra does this, sometimes; talks about forever like it’s possible, like it’s comprehensible, like it’s going to happen for them both. “You’re always so sure,” Asami says.

“About some things,” Korra says. “Not everything. But about this.” She looks up at Asami, and her smile is gentle. Open and honest. “About you.”

Asami sniffs, feeling drained and embarrassed but relieved, too, to have finally spoken some of what has been bottled up inside of her for so long. Far too long. “I love you.”

Korra’s smile widens. “That’s the first time you’ve said it first.” She doesn’t sound angry at all, just pleased, and maybe, absurdly, proud.

“Well,” Asami says, and kisses her.

Senna, who has returned without Asami noticing, clears her throat lightly. “How are you feeling?”

Asami tries not to blush. “Much better. Thank you, Senna. I really—this was really lovely, and I’m glad I came. I’d love to come over more often. I’d invite you to my apartment, but it’s....”

“A damn mess,” Korra says. “I love it.”

“Yeah,” Asami says; “it is.” Maybe she’ll clean it up this weekend; maybe not, though. There’s a whole workshop at Future Industries that she hasn’t been to in weeks, waiting for her to return and get her projects into gear once more.

“We’d love to have you,” Tonraq says, warmly.

Senna looks bright-eyed, as if she too might cry now. “Korra’s been so happy these past few months and it’s all due to you.”

“Mom,” Korra groans.

Senna smiles at her, watery-eyed. “We’ve tea and biscuits on the porch,” she says. “Come on, it’s getting nice and cool outside.”

Korra glances at Asami, who nods, and Korra slides her hand into Asami’s and smiles at her, bright and beautiful and hers. When Korra talks about forever, Asami thinks maybe forever is possible.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
